“Going where I list, my own master total and absolute.”

Cultivating a home base for two years has been rewarding, but the universe is calling, like the blossom calls the bee. It’s time to hit the road. After returning from Japan this June, we will pack our things and go.

Coincidentally, a friend sent me this poem today, Walt Whitman’s “Song of the Open Road.” I’m sure all travelers can relate to the spirit of this passage, the energy that drives us to experiment and never stay still. To relish in our restlessness. The entire poem has 14 more stanzas, this is just the first. You can read the entire thing here.

Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.


Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune,
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms,
Strong and content I travel the open road.


The earth, that is sufficient,
I do not want the constellations any nearer,
I know they are very well where they are,
I know they suffice for those who belong to them.


(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens,
I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever I go,
I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them,
I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return.)

Best to you, fellow traveler and stalwart alike.

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